Airport escapades

What is it about security checkpoints at airports that leaves you feeling violated? Sure, some of them are polite and try to make you feel comfortable, but others leave you feeling as though you have been dragged into a side room and… ahem... interrogated.

 

I have spent the last couple of days in Denmark, first in Aalborg and now in Copenhagen. Staying in airport hotels is pretty miserable, but nice to be near for the flight in the oh so early morning. I had a flex ticket so I thought, oh goody – let’s try out the SAS Fast Security Check, only available to people with flex tickets or SAS gold cards. The SAS gold card concept makes me wonder what other fanciful things one might receive.

 

In any event, I thought, “Yes, a little bit of special treatment would be great right now”. So I roll on up to the special SAS security check and what do I find? Nothing less than a line that is around the same size as a regular security check.  Typical I think. Oh well, maybe it is a little bit shorter and a bit faster, think I, rather naively.

 

I scan the lines ahead of me, as the line branches into two. One line is full of black coats, scarves, and laptop bags, business men heading to Stockholm. They look efficient. The other line is full of women, reasonably business-like looking, all wearing coats and carrying multiple bags. I figure that they probably all have laptops too. It wasn’t really a sexist choice for me to stand with the men, after all, they look as though they are in as big a rush as I am and are positively throwing their laptops out of their bags onto the conveyer belt. At the same time, the chap in front of me chose the other line. I kept comparing my progress with him, thinking “we shall see my friend… we shall see…”.

 

Of course, once I had been barked at several times by the security guard (in Danish no doubt) that I needed to show my boarding pass (again??), and having had responded dumbly by throwing my phone from my pocket into a basket, being barked at again, responding “Sorry?”, and then being barked at in English to show my card, I promptly forgot about comparing myself competitively with the other chap.

 

I had the impression that his temper was rising as I persistently did not understand his orders. What would have been the next step? Rubber glove, Danish pastries served with Danish Christmas beer, or some bizarre mixture of the two? I daren’t think more.

 

Finally he was placated when I produced my card, which had of course been buried in my jacket. I have learnt after doing this many times now that it’s simply best to dump everything in your jacket pockets, much faster. I tempted fate and decided to display my displeasure with his barking by twisting my mouth slightly and grumpily passing him my card. I showed him with my rebellious behaviour, I thought contentedly.

 

In any event I survived the fast check in. I think next time I will take the plebeian path.